Your life is too comfortable...

and that might be the real reason you're stressed out.

You’re not going to want to read this week’s newsletter.

It’s going to be uncomfortable.

And that’s the point.

So, if you’d rather carry on in a state of ease, go ahead and close this out and I’ll catch you next week.

Still here? Great. Let’s jump in…

Your life is too comfortable.

Mine is too, by the way.

“Studies show it was not uncommon for these hunters to run and walk more than 25 miles in a day. We call that a marathon. They called it ‘picking up dinner.’”
— Michael Easter, The Comfort Crisis

• I sleep on a plush mattress with pillows and blankets 🛏️

• Every building I enter is temperature-controlled ☀️❄️

• I can summon hot food or a car with a thumb tap 👍🏼[

• I own workout gear engineered to wick away my sweat — so my discomfort working out is as comfortable as possible 🏋🏼‍♀️

• And of course we’ve got fast shipping, contactless payment, and not having to talk to actual people to communicate 💳

None of these are necessarily bad (on their own).

Comfort isn’t a villain. But unchecked comfort might become a silent killer.

“Most people today rarely step outside their comfort zones. We are living progressively sheltered, sterile, temperature-controlled, overfed, underchallenged, safety-netted lives.”
— Michael Easter, The Comfort Crisis

The Price of Comfort

The question isn’t just “What’s the cost of comfort?”

It’s: Are you willing to pay it?

Because there is a price.

It just doesn’t show up on your bank statement.

It shows up in your boredom.
In your low-grade anxiety.
In how small problems suddenly feel enormous.

Comfort’s invoice comes in subtle ways:

• A restless mind that can't sit still.

• A body that’s soft in all the wrong ways.

• A spirit that’s overfed and underchallenged.

So before we double down on comfort — the quick fix, the extra cushion, the easy way out — maybe we pause and ask:

“Am I okay with the tradeoff I’m making?”

Because if you never stretch... you shrink.

From Hunter-Gatherers to Prime Delivery

Our ancestors didn’t dream of Amazon Prime or AC.
They just didn’t want to freeze to death or starve.

Every innovation they chased — fire, shelter, tools — made life a little less brutal. That was the point: survival, not luxury.

But what they couldn’t have predicted were the ripple effects.

That someday we’d invent a world where comfort wasn’t just available — it was expected. That we'd eliminate most of life’s daily friction… and somehow feel more overwhelmed, less fulfilled, and deeply underchallenged.

They didn’t see that part coming.
And, if we’re not asking this question, we might also never realize the source of our own perceived struggles.

“A radical new body of evidence shows that people are at their best—physically harder, mentally tougher, and spiritually sounder—after experiencing the same discomforts our early ancestors were exposed to every day.”
— Michael Easter, The Comfort Crisis

Part of my job involves hard conversations.

People walk in with real concerns — sometimes aggressive, sometimes emotional.

And, no matter how many times I do this, I can’t seem to let their emotion stay with them. Their emotion often finds a way to become my emotion.

But while reading The Comfort Crisis, something clicked.

If the hardest part of my day is dealing with a tough conversation in a perfectly climate controlled room, sitting in my ergonomic chair, with my electrolyte infused water nearby…

My life is pretty freaking good.

That doesn’t mean the work isn’t hard.
But it reframes how I perceive and internalize the stress.

Is this true for everyone?

No. There are people dealing with much harder, more intense life situations right now that are deserving of the energy and emotion being experienced.

But for the people who come in and are carrying big emotions around relatively tiny issues (parking, traffic flow, playground shade, classroom size)…

I want to say—thank you for raising this. It’s absolutely worth discussing.
And — how lucky are we that this is the biggest thing on our plate today?

A Question Worth Carrying

You don’t need to give up your mattress.

You don’t have to start rucking 45-pound weights around the neighborhood.

But maybe you could start with this question:

“What’s the cost of comfort?”

This question alone can change how you show up in small moments:

• When the elevator dings... do you take the stairs?

• When dinner feels a little late... do you sit with the hunger?

• When someone’s difficult... do you rise or recoil?

• When you don’t get what you want… do you throw a fit or calmly find a solution?

Unchecked comfort can turn little problems into big ones.

But discomfort?

It sharpens us.

Humbles us.

Reminds us what we’re made of.

Now, what?

So this week, don’t change your life.
Just change your lens.

When life offers a choice: Easy or uncomfortable?

Try the uncomfortable path — just once.
Take the stairs. Sit in the silence. Walk in the rain. Delay the impulse.

Remind your body and brain that you were built for this.

You are not fragile.

You are not made of feathers and screen time.

You are built for discomfort.

And that?

That might be your greatest comfort of all.

Keep Asking,

Kyle